


And So I Learn to Drift

by sellswordking



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:12:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sellswordking/pseuds/sellswordking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grey only wants to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And So I Learn to Drift

The last words Grey ever heard were Gilliam’s, telling him to take care. Hide. Tuck himself away in any of the holes he’d found for himself. Stay safe with the other children.

Grey hadn’t listened.

After waking up, it was a long, arduous process to explain that the infection from the headwound had taken its toll, it had been so filthy for so long by the time they found him, it managed to spread, and on and on and on just to get across what he’d realized in the first few seconds; his world was silent now.

It didn’t bother him at the time, he was only a child. What was there other than the constant rattling of the train and the crying of hungry babes?

He held on tight to those final kind sentiments, though. He hadn’t had the good mind to listen to Gilliam once. Funny how after losing a simple sense, Grey was determined to hang on the man’s every word.

When he grew older, muscle began to overlay soft tissue. Grey grew quickly, but stayed lithe and light on his feet. His aim improved dramatically, his willpower that carried him through the rebellion and the ensuing illness as a child only turning to iron under the tutelage of the few soldiers left in the tail section.

They devised an elegant solution to his inability to speak--the painter put ink into his arms, basic numbers and words (who what when where why yes no surrender _die_ ) to help him on his way.

At fifteen, he went to Gilliam with a pot of ink and the makeshift needles. He sat silently and still, let that gentle, guiding hand fill in his back, his stomach, his chest; _anywhere_ Gilliam pleased with words from his books, or shapes, or anything he liked.

At sixteen, he kissed Gilliam.

At sixteen, they made love.

As they crossed the bridge, Gilliam wrote his name over Grey’s heart.

For the first time, Grey hated the silence. He hated that he was unable to hear Gilliam’s pleading. He despised being able to feel the vibration of every sound against his lips as they pressed to Gilliam’s neck, but not being able to _hear_  any of them. Grey could feel and taste and smell and even _see_ Gilliam in their low light, but he couldn't hear his name falling from those trembling lips while he hovered above, rising up and falling back down gently with the sway of the train.

Always gentle, always in the tent. Grey ran so hot he didn't spare a thought to being naked, sharing his heat with Gilliam.

Grey’s nights had since been spent the same as his days before; clinging to hope and the feeling of something better. He never left Gilliam’s side for long, it was as if he’d finally found his steadfast place.

Now? That was _gone_. It was all just gone, _ruined_ , taken by a single bullet.

It was his twenty-first year.

Grey was . . . Grey was _tired_.

The ache of the cold, ache he’d never felt before, had settled down deep all the way to his bones.

It invaded. It _took_ from him. His movements were sluggish, every step pushing splinters of pain up through his legs, into his stomach, settling at his chest. He rubbed the old ink, the scar that broke up that name scrawled across his heart.

Every movement felt slow. Weak.

 _He_ felt weak.

Tears were drying at the corners of his eyes and as he remembered the sight of the gun against Gilliam’s head, in the last second he had turned away. For the first time, Grey was _thankful_ the world had gone silent for him long ago. He wouldn't remember that grainy screen. He couldn't. Grey would remember their last moments, their last kiss, the last time Gilliam ruffled his hair and touched his cheek. _You must go with Curtis_ , those lips said. Grey hadn't wanted to, but he was able bodied, strong. He had no choice.

Grey left Gilliam behind.

It was _his_ fault.

They never would have gotten close if he had never . . .

Grey slammed himself into the steam box just as the door to the car burst open.

There were gunshots, and a trembling voice outside his box, and Grey made his decision.

The warm spray of copper blood over his fingers from another artery cut breathed a spark of life into him, and it exploded into a roaring flame when he saw that motherfucker that dared snuff out his last light. He threw his knife, but intentionally missed anything vital. He didn't want to give the satisfaction of a quick death, no, he wanted to _rip the bastard apart_ with his hands. But it was the kind of want that ate him up inside. The fire that had been lit was white hot, but burned out too quick and made every punch less of an attack and more an uncoordinated brawl, like the kind Grey used to get in with the other children. It was from a place of emotion rather than skill, and ended when his head was slammed against the wall. There were still tears in his eyes, still that cold clutching at him.

On the floor, the last of the fight was bleeding away from him.

Grey opened his eyes again just in time to see Curtis in danger. He knew he had no hope of winning, but he would not let that last precious order go ignored.

_Go with Curtis._

His hand flew out and was struck through immediately, and attention was back on him. Grey got a few hits in, but he didn't want to win. He only needed to distract. They struggled, and he was back against the wall.

He was _so tired_.

Grey shut his eyes tight.

He saw a gentle smile. Warm eyes. A man who gave himself to his people.

And he let go.

When Grey’s eyes opened, he didn't see his killer. He was already long gone inside his own head.

The precious knife Gilliam had given him broke through ink and sink and muscle to his heart.

Grey finally slept.

 


End file.
